succeeded by that smile which they both so much dreaded to see.

The old man shook his head, and looked with a brow darkened by sorrow,
first upon his daughter, and afterwards upon his wife. "My heart's
delight," he exclaimed, "I fear I have demanded more from your obedience
than you could perform without danger to yourself. I wish I had allowed
her grief to flow, and not required such an abrupt and unseasonable
proof of her duty. It was too severe an injunction to a creature so mild
and affectionate,--and would to God that I had not sought it!"

"Would to heaven that you had not, my dear Henry. Let us try, however,
and move her heart,--if tears could come she would be relieved."

"Bring Agnes in," said her father, "bring in Agnes, she may succeed
better with her than we can,--and if Charles be not already gone, there
is no use in distressing him by at all alluding to her situation. She
is only overpowered, I trust, and will soon recover." The mother, on her
way to bring Agnes to her sister, met the rest of the family returning
to the house after having taken leave of Osborne. The two girls were
weeping, for they looked upon him as already a brother; whilst William,
in a good-humored tone, bantered them for the want of firmness.

"I think, mother," said he, "they are all in love with him, if they
would admit it. Why here's Maria and Agnes, and I dare say they're
making as great a rout about him as Jane herself! But bless me! what's
the, matter, mother, that you look so pale and full of alarm?"

"It's Jane--it's Jane," said Agnes. "Mother, there's something wrong!"
and as she spoke she stopped, with uplifted hands, apparently fastened
to the earth.

"My poor child!" exclaimed her mother,--"for heaven's sake come in,
Agnes. Oh, heaven grant that it may soon pass away. Agnes, dear girl,
you know her best--come in quick; her papa wants you to try what you can
do with her."

In a moment this loving family, with pale faces and beating hearts,
stood in a circle about their affectionate and beautiful sister.
Jane sat with her passive hand tenderly pressed between her
father's,--smiling; but whether in unconscious happiness or unconscious
misery, who alas! can say?

"You see she knows none of us," said her mother. "Neither her papa
nor me. Speak to her each of you, in turn. Perhaps you may be more
successful. Agnes,--"

"She will know me," replied Agnes; "I am certain she will know me;"--and
the delightful girl spoke